'...The Great Escape' by Chris Stamey
'...The Great Escape' by Chris Stamey
GUEST POST: Jordan Oakes (Yellow Pills Magazine)
There’s one thing for certain (subdivided three ways):
No one sings like Chris Stamey
No one writes like Chris Stamey
No one plays guitar like Chris Stamey
From his early combo Sneakers, to his influential work with Peter Holsapple in the masterful dB’s, to a solo career that’s lasted, so far, 40 years, Chris Stamey has been a singularlist—emphasis on “sing,” (not the philosophical stance). Yet somehow “unique” doesn’t begin to describe this tenacious, re-inventive songwriter.
Clearly, he’s of a Southern pop lineage that includes R.E.M. and began with Big Star.
Meanwhile, his sort of West Coast counterpart, the arty-power-pop genius Scott Miller, was plying his own trade in California. But while Miller used blazing keyboard riffs and rarely wrote a straight-forward love song, Stamey had the heart of a troubadour.
His guitar playing is a new kind of string theory. There were the bouncy, often frenetic, pop rhythms of the early dB’s; the subdued fuzz and snarl of his Tom Verlaine phase; the warm, gradual embrace of country motifs and folk-rock jangle.
The songs on ‘…The Great Escape’ demonstrate how Stamey’s lyrics have grown from the playful impressionism of his early days to a more direct and confessional tone.
Stamey, you see, is always a step ahead of your expectations. His early single, “The Summer Sun,” contained this ringing lyric: “When I get to your door, when I knock on the bell…” Stamey turns phrases the way Vanna White turns letters.
That wheel of inspiration keeps spinning.
One highlight of Stamey’s new album …The Great Escape is a faithful version of “She Might Look My Way,” written by Alex Chilton and Tommy Hoehn (both of whom recorded versions in the ‘70s). The song is about the futility of hoping to catch the eye of a certain girl when you’re romantically invisible. The lyrics balance hope and resignation; the melody is gorgeous in a makeup-free way. Not just that; Mitch Easter is on drums.
The intro riff of “Greensboro Days’” cleverly skims Herman’s Hermits’ “No Milk Today” and perhaps shares with that song the bottled-up pain of separation. “Greensboro,” though, turns out to be a looking-back ballad with more than a smidgen of sadness. But the upbeat “Back in New York”—the last song—somehow feels like that track’s happy ending.
In this day and age, pop—not to mention popular rock—is in deep peril, song structure collapsing under the weight of dance beats and overproduction. But don’t worry; it’s Chris Stamey to the rescue.
“The Catherine’s Wheel” jars us in the middle of its gentle cadences with an unexpected burst of jagged prog guitar. The delightful “The One and Only (Van Dyke Parks)” humorously recounts Stamey’s friendship with that legendary lyricist (and melodist). You can tell by the matter-of-fact rendering that it all really happened.
In fact, the songs on …The Great Escape demonstrate how Stamey’s lyrics have grown from the playful impressionism of his early days to a more direct and confessional tone. Meanwhile, his gift for pop melody pokes through every avant-garde diversion; each polite nod to folk-rock and country.
Still, he’s not trying on genres for size.
Stamey imbues his songs with an unmistakable sincerity—even confessional quality—while never letting go of the craft and cleverness. And he’s not alone. There are stellar guest players and singers—too many to mention (including a harmonizing Holsapple).
In this day and age, pop—not to mention popular rock—is in deep peril, song structure collapsing under the weight of dance beats and overproduction. But don’t worry; it’s Chris Stamey to the rescue. Listening to this alternately catchy and emotional album—his best batch of songs in years—is a great escape.
Jordan Oakes founded, published, and edited the Yellow Pills power pop magazine beginning in 1991, and compiled five Yellow Pills CD compilations beginning in 1993. His journalism has also appeared in Sound Choice, Speak, The Riverfront Times, The Christian Science Monitor, Rolling Stone’s ‘Alt-Rock-a-Rama’ book, and elsewhere. He’s a published poet and occasional standup comedian. He loves dogs and dog-eared magazines.
